


Day 112

by Josh_the_Bard



Series: A Year in Kirkwall [112]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josh_the_Bard/pseuds/Josh_the_Bard
Series: A Year in Kirkwall [112]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589257





	Day 112

Paxley was starting to feel the effects of only taking half his normal lyrium rations. He woke in the morning with a splitting headache that refused to abate and was constantly sweating through his undergarments. Samson, on the other hand, seemed to be in a near constant state of euphoria. The ex-templar noted Paxley’s discomfort as they were preparing for another day of apostate hunting.

“You know,” Samson said, helping Paxley with his breastplate, “they give you more lyrium then you need so as to build up your dependency. Makes all the more difficult to quit”

“I should have known,” Paxley grumbled. He had one suspected that there was a trial during the templar initiation that would ensure only those loyal to Meredith would survive. He had since learned that it was a foolish thing to think. The Chantry was much more subtle than that. Unfortunately he was committed now, he had seen what templars became without lyrium, templars like Samson. And that, he supposed was the point.

“One thing you need to learn,” Samson said. “Is that no one cares about us. The Chantry is perfectly willing to use our abilities but the instant we are no longer useful or even slightly inconvenient, they toss us aside to rot in a gutter. The common folk love feeling safe but they don’t give a rat’s ass about us as people. Some even think we’re villains for what we do to contain mages, even if what we do keeps them safe. You want my advice son? The if anyone ever gives you a way out of the order, you take it and fuck the rest of the world. If they don’t give a damn about you, you shouldn’t give a damn about them.” 

That gave Paxley a lot to think about as the two men did their rounds. The fleet of runners Wanda had organized was back to work, they could only afford to take so much time off, but they all had sketches of the apostate with them to show around as they went about their daily routine. They were reporting in every so often but so far none of the leeds had panned out. Porret’s description was not the most precise and there had been a few women who matched the description who were clearly not blood mages.

Towards the end of the day, something changed. One of the runners came up to them. It seemed she was so frantic that she had lost a shoe along the way and not bothered to stop to get it back.

“Zachary’s gone missing!” she shouted. “He was was asking around Darktown about your apostate and never came back.”

“Take us to where he was last,” Paxley said. He and Samson followed as she led them through the streets to an out-of-the-way section of Darktown. 

It was always a risk for a templar to be in the undercity. They were not looked upon fondly by the locals, just as Samson said. Paxley especially had made a few enemies during his brief time patrolling here. At Samson’s suggestion he had put a cloak over his armor and used the hood to cover his face as much as possible. It helped avoid trouble with the locals but it did nothing to alleviate the withdrawal sweats he was having.

The runner led them down a corner where they were met with a line of tough looking men and women with improvised weapons. They all had a slightly dull, glassy-eyed look to them. The look of a blood thrall. Paxley tried to back away slowly but the thralls set themselves on the templars with their clubs, axes, and pipes.

The fight was short and decisive. These were not trained soldiers or even experienced street fighters and they were no match for two templars, even if Samson was out of practice. Most of the thralls lay dead at the end of the fight but Paxley had knocked out those he could, it was no fault of theirs that they were made into thralls.

In preparation for this Paxley had brought a copy of the Litany of Adralla, although that only worked before one was made a thrall. The only way Paxley knew of to cure them was to kill the mage controlling them, and even then it might not work.

“I think this is the place,” he said to Samson. The runner had disappeared during the fighting but she had already done her part.

“I don’t like our odds against these bloodmages,” Samson said. “If we rush in we’ll likely just get ourselves killed. We should post a watch over this area to make sure they don’t make a run for it and come back with more men.”

“What if they escape in the meantime,”Paxley asked.

“Then they escape,” Samson replied. “The world is full of apostates. One more won’t make a difference but it will really be a shame if one of us dies.”

“Someone within the order must be helping these apostates,” Paxley pressed. “We can’t trust anyone else.”

“We’ll get the guards as support,” Samson decided. “The Captain might be a bitch, but she’s an honest bitch.” He chuckled softly to himself. “You stay here and keep watch. I’ll be back tonight with reinforcements and we’ll root out this nest of apostates.”

Paxley opened his mouth to protest but the older man was already gone. He was loath to trust anyone, but Samson was the only man Paxley had even met who didn’t care enough to lie to you. He told it like it was and that was something Paxley could respect. A proper templar would have charged in and gotten themselves killed for the cause, but Paxley wasn’t sure he was a proper templar anymore.


End file.
